


If you could hear the dreams I've had

by MsPeppernose



Series: I set these fires just for you [4]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anal Sex, Frustration, M/M, durty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5901829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So is this how we’re going to spend the day, then? Being horny little fuckers in a furniture store? And I don’t need a headboard to tie you down, by the way,” Frank says.</p><p>“You started it!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you could hear the dreams I've had

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to Immoral Crow for the beta and to Jiksa for cheerleading <3
> 
> Title from Stage 4 Fear Of Trying / FIATC

Pete wiggles a little on the bed, bounces a bit, and it’s a really comfy bed. He likes it.

He looks to his left and watches Frank do a similar little shimmy. Frank’s dark hair is a heaped mess on the comforter and he grins when they make eye contact. Pete wants to kiss him, maybe roll right over and climb on top so that they’re touching all over.

The only thing stopping him is the fact that they’re in public, in Ikea, and the bed they’re on is a display bed.

“You like this one?”  
“Yeah. Maybe this is the one. Should I just get it? I don’t think I can be bothered to go test out a million more beds.”  
“It’s comfy. Go for it,” Frank says and he goes to sit up. “This is not really how you test a bed though, is it?” He raises an eyebrow and gives Pete a look that’s so familiar. “Lying motionless on the bed is not how you broke your old one in the first place.”

Pete laughs out loud. “How we broke it, you mean.” Frank’s right, though. Pete’s bed broke two days ago during frantic, sweaty sex, Frank fucking Pete hard and fast until there was an very audible crack from somewhere under them. They’d stopped momentarily, only long enough to laugh about it, and then Frank continued to fuck Pete into oblivion. After sleeping in a dip in the middle of the bed ever since, Pete finally conceded that he needs a new bed, hence their trip to Ikea. “Yeah, but we can’t exactly test this bed that way.”

“That’s a shame,” Frank says, and there’s a tease in his voice that Pete recognises, one that he loves.

Frank gets off the bed and stands waiting on Pete. Pete moves too, but briefly rolls onto his stomach and then hoists himself onto his hands and knees and repeats the little bounce his did before, just doggy-style this time. “Feels okay like this too.” He grins when Frank’s eyes widen into a semi-shocked expression that turns to giggles as he tries to pull Pete by the arm so that they can move on and not cause a scene.

“You’re crazy,” Frank says, though he’s grinning as they walk to the next bed, then the next.  
“Was your idea.”  
“I didn’t tell you to get into position and do that.”  
“You didn’t need to.” Pete slips his hand into Frank’s and leans in. “You implied it.”

“What about this one?” Frank asks, referring to the next bed and clearly trying to change the subject even if he totally did start it.

It’s a white metal framed bed, nice and big and looks plenty sturdy. 

Pete, feeling mischievous after Frank’s suggestive comment, grips the top of the headboard and tries to shake it, feeling just how solid it is.

“I see,” Pete says carefully. Closer to Frank’s ear and much quieter he says, “Thinking of tying me to the headboard? I reckon it should hold me.”  
“So is this how we’re going to spend the day, then? Being horny little fuckers in a furniture store? And I don’t need a headboard to tie you down, by the way.”  
“You started it!”

Pete grins as Frank rolls his eyes, but he squeezes Pete’s hand anyway.

They wander through the rest of the showrooms, making their way through the little made-up apartments, looking at nothing in particular. 

One room-set has a much larger shower than the others and Frank ushers Pete to step inside even if no one is actually supposed to get inside those shower mock-ups. 

Pete looks around him. “Looks okay,” he says. “Looks like just a regular shower though. You thinking of buying a new one for your apartment?”

“No,” Frank says, stepping inside the shower cubicle after Pete. It’s a little bigger than Frank’s current shower. “I want to see if we both fit inside.”  
“We do,” Pete says, and there’s space enough for the both of them even if it’s not quite as big as the huge shower they shared in a hotel room once. Frank crowds in close, so it’s irrelevant that it’s a bigger shower, though.  
“Good,” Frank says taking another step towards Pete so that they’re _almost_ pressed against each other. “I would check if there’s room for me to drop to my knees to blow you in this shower, but I probably shouldn’t.”

Pete knows for sure he shouldn’t and there’s a couple not too far away. Pete chances a kiss though, just a little one, but there’s enough heat in it to promise that Pete might be the one to drop to his knees when they’re alone later. When Pete pulls back they’re given murderous looks by a man old enough to be one of their grandfathers and it makes them exit the shower in a fit of giggles. 

It becomes a little war then, to see how can turn the other on more, who can say the filthiest thing, who can be more discretely inappropriate, all in public. 

It’s a fucking fun game, and though Pete is getting a little frustrated it’s worth it to see Frank get wound up and flustered too.

Frank, after checking that there’s no one watching, spins Pete so that Pete’s got Frank at his back, and he presses Pete so that his hips hit the edge of a display kitchen table, hemming him in. 

“Imagine a table like this,” he says in Pete’s ear. “You could bend me right over it and fuck me hard.” He presses against Pete’s back, just hard enough for Pete to shut his eyes momentarily. “Or,” he continues, and Pete opens his eyes but keeps them carefully trained on the cutlery, on the beautifully arranged centrepiece. “It looks solid enough to take our weight. I could fuck you right in the middle of it.”

Pete fights back by pushing his ass back against Frank and moving his hips ever so slightly so that the swell of his ass rubs against Frank. He’s not trying to get Frank hard - not really - but he thinks he’s fighting fair, or at least fighting fire with fire.

“Fuck,” Frank swears in his ear, and it sends a thunder bolt right through Pete.

There’s an older couple about ten feet away from them now, so Frank takes a step back and Pete is grateful if a little sad; grateful that he won’t end with a massive boner in the middle of Ikea, sad that he’s not at home with Frank so that they can turn each other on properly.

When they’re at the rug section, Pete beckons Frank over with the curl of his finger. It’s to look at a ridiculous fluffy rug, and Frank laughs because it would never ever fit in with the décor in Pete’s apartment.

“How do you think it would feel against your ass?” Pete whispers. Frank’s reply is a smirk and the arch of an eyebrow. “If I had you lying naked on it and I rode you slow and dirty until you couldn’t take it any longer. What would that be like?”

Pete thinks that he’s definitely got one up on Frank for that, especially because Frank’s smirk disappears and turns into a lip-bite. He closes his eyes briefly too, as if he’s imagining how that might go. 

But as ever, they’re pretty equally matched in the dirty talk department because Frank drops his voice low and whispers back, “Why don’t you buy the stupid rug and we can find out?”

Fuck. Pete’s dick twitches at the thought even if it was his idea to begin with. Frank never plays fair.

They’re two heavily tattooed men, huddling close, giggling and ignoring the entire rest of the world. They probably look like deviants to most Sunday-shoppers, but Pete doesn’t care. He keeps Frank’s hand in his, keeps whispering dirty things, keeps up the innuendo, but quietly and discretely.

By the time their shopping trip is complete, Pete’s so fucking frustrated and keyed up that he actually considers dragging Frank into the toilets, or even going by himself just to relieve the pressure. He has to continuously remind himself that Ikea is a _Family Establishment_ and that they’d likely get arrested for indecency if they were caught. He wants to spend the afternoon naked and touching Frank, not _in jail_ , so he just tries keep calm and hopes his dick will remain patient.

It doesn’t help that by the time they’re back in Pete’s apartment block, back in his parking spot, that Frank leans over from the passenger seat and kisses him all wet and dirty, palms Pete through his jeans too. 

“Thought I was going to have to walk around Ikea with a boner for the rest of day. Do you know how much I had to think of naked old dudes just to keep from looking like a pervert?”  
“Pretty sure you are a pervert,” Pete smirks, and Frank rubs his hand over Pete’s crotch again in reply making Pete bite back a moan. “But you’re my pervert, so get the fuck out of the car before we end up fucking in the back seat.”  
“And the problem with that would be?” Frank says airily, and Pete has to fight to remember why they can’t.  
“I want to get you naked and there’s security cameras down here. Unless you want to put on a live sex show I suggest you help me with my bags and get the fuck upstairs.”

They almost don’t make it into Pete’s apartment, kissing and getting rather handsy at his front door while trying to juggle the Ikea bags and actually get the door unlocked. 

Once the door is closed, it’s quick and fervent, an afternoon’s worth of sexual tension pouring out and getting all over everything. Frank pushes Pete up against the back of the door, hand on Pete’s dick through his pants again, and Pete moans loud enough that anyone in the hallway could hear him. He feels like he’s full of hot, electric energy, energy that keeps passing back and forth between him and Frank as they touch, as they kiss.

Pete tears at Frank’s clothes trying to lift his shirt, undo his belt, all while desperately kissing and edging Frank towards the centre of the room. Frank’s hands are _everywhere_ , quick and rough and fucking delicious all over Pete’s skin which has been sensitised since their little game of who-can-suppress-a-hard-on-the-longest-in-public began. He gets Frank’s outer shirt off, and then gets his Jawbreaker shirt over his head so he can touch all over Frank’s chest and belly. 

Pete for sure can’t wait to get Frank inside him and Frank’s being an impatient little prick too, murmuring, “Come on,” repeatedly into Pete’s mouth and skin, though foreplay started hours ago for them so getting to the main event quickly feels perfectly fine.

“Be naked when I get back,” Pete says, hoping he sounds more authoritative than pleading, though he’s not sure he cares, he just needs to get enough of Frank to feed the fire in his belly. “Just grabbing a rubber.”  
“Here?” Frank gestures to the sofa.  
“Can’t fuck on the bed, it’s all broken.”  
“Good point.”

Pete only half hopes that they somehow break his sofa too so that they can repeat their adventure next weekend.

Frank is stark naked by the time Pete’s back, but then so is Pete, stripping unceremoniously on his way back from his bedroom. He takes in the sight of Frank though, completely bare and holding on to his cock, and he has to steady himself at how gorgeous he looks. He’s pale against the dark fabric of the couch, the colour of Frank’s tattoos standing out so brilliantly on his skin.

Pete fingers himself quickly, not needing much, still open enough from their lazy morning fuck in Frank’s bed. Frank watches him with a hungry look on his face as he strokes himself and then rolls on the condom, slicks himself up with KY.

Pete runs his hands up Frank’s thighs as he climbs into his lap. They’re the least inked area of skin and Pete sometimes thinks of his fingers as needles as he touches the skin, inking Frank with invisible Pete-ink, leaving a mark only he knows is there.

He slides down onto Frank’s cock as slowly as he can. In theory it’s to savour it, but he can also tell from Frank’s eyes, his stuttered breath, that it’s driving him crazy too which is a really nice bonus.

And then, _then_ when Frank is deep inside, Pete begins to move. Slowly. 

And it really is slow, slow enough that Pete feels like he’s achieving something huge considering how horny he’s been since they started talking dirty to each other _hours_ ago. But he keeps his pace steady and pays attention to Frank’s face, full of concentration and pleasure, the little hitches in his breath. He pulls Pete down to kiss him, needy and hot, and Pete can’t help but speed up his hips just a little.

Frank slides his hands up Pete’s thighs, over his ass and hips. Sometimes he’s guiding Pete’s body as he moves, other times just stroking, grabbing, fingers pressing into flesh. Pete concentrates on the feelings of Frank’s finger tips on his skin, the feeling of Frank’s dick inside him as he rides, the heat in his abdomen as he heads closer and closer towards orgasm.

“Come on, asshole,” Frank says, and maybe he’s a little more impatient than Pete today.  
Pete laughs into the crook of Frank’s neck. “You’re calling me an asshole when your dick is literally in _my_ asshole?” Frank laughs too and then moans when Pete rolls his hips. “I totally am an asshole, though.” Though Pete moves again, deeper and harder, bites Frank’s neck, tries to give Frank more of what he wants.

They’ve wound each other up so tight all day that it doesn’t take long at all once Pete picks up the pace and moves faster and faster, Frank’s hips bucking under him as much as they can with Pete’s weight against them, meeting him in the middle.

There’s a layer of sweat between them, and Pete’s hand gets covered in pre-come and that same sweat when he starts to jack himself. Frank’s hand quickly covers his, and Pete comes almost at the same time as Frank stiffens and shudders beneath him and comes with his face buried against Pete’s chest, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” Pete says, because that’s all he has breath to say, his body spent but tingling, his mind so fucking happy and relaxed. He kisses Frank carelessly, all wet and messy, ending in a lazy smile for both of them, and carefully gets out of Frank’s lap. 

Frank lets himself slide sideways to that he’s lying down now and Pete joins him, relaxing and stretching out with Frank on his elbow gazing down at him.

“You’re not, though,” Frank says out of nowhere.  
“Not what?”  
“Not an asshole.”  
“Even if I try to make you hard in public and then don’t let you fuck me in the parking garage?”  
“Even then.”

Pete grins, but it turns into a frown when he remembers something, and then turns his lip up into a dramatic pout. “I forgot.” He scrambles to the end of the sofa and leaning over the arm, ass in the air. He roots in one of his Ikea bags for a second. “About this!” he says pulling out the fluffy rug they’d been laughing at. Of course Pete bought it. He had to.

Frank laughs hard and squirms as Pete throws the stupid little rug at him.  
“Next time, Wentz,” he says pulling Pete back down to kiss him. “Next time.”


End file.
